During the five days I spent in Havana, I was waiting for an opportunity to speak to a Cuban and ask them what it is actually like to live in a communist society. I observed the women carrying their children on their hips and wondered why they had no pushchairs; I wandered along the Malecon and watched the groups of Habaneros gather on the seawall as night descended and realised this was their Saturday night's entertainment; I pondered the crowds hitch-hiking by the side of the motorway and climbing onto rickety wagons pulled by thin ponies. This was a society of scarce possessions and I desperately wanted to know how people lived like that.
Saturday, 31 October 2009
An education in the Carribean
During the five days I spent in Havana, I was waiting for an opportunity to speak to a Cuban and ask them what it is actually like to live in a communist society. I observed the women carrying their children on their hips and wondered why they had no pushchairs; I wandered along the Malecon and watched the groups of Habaneros gather on the seawall as night descended and realised this was their Saturday night's entertainment; I pondered the crowds hitch-hiking by the side of the motorway and climbing onto rickety wagons pulled by thin ponies. This was a society of scarce possessions and I desperately wanted to know how people lived like that.
Friday, 28 August 2009
Fair cop at the Fairmont
Whenever I interview hotel owners, they inevitably claim ‘nothing is too much trouble for our guests.’
It sounds good – and is surely the cornerstone of good hospitality - but in practice there are often excuses. Luckily for my seven friends and I, the five star Fairmont St Andrews makes good on its promise to put guests first – and then some!
It would be fair to say we put them through their paces – eight excited Glasgow girls on a hen weekend are usually the stuff of nightmares for hospitality staff – and yet not once did their geniality slip.
When we turned up on Friday, the Senior Open Golf Championship was in full swing -much to our surprise, as the deal we had secured for two nights’ b&b plus dinner on the Friday and spa treatments, had led us to believe the hotel would be quiet.
After an afternoon barbecueing on a hidden cove reached by a subtle path through the undergrowth by the fourth fairway, we approached the catering staff to see if we could decorate our dinner table. They had no objection to pink tulle bows around each seat, flowers and helium balloons as a centrepiece and silver confetti scattered over the tablecloth. It also seemed that our waiter was delighted to be serving us, checking a little too frequently that everything was OK. When it wasn’t – one main course arrived a good fifteen minutes late – he apologised profusely and gave us a complimentary bottle of wine.
We moved on to the bar, accompanied by some new American friends who insisted on picking up the tab, and the barstaff played along with my ‘tutored tasting’ of Islay whiskies, even presenting the empty bottle of Bruichladdich to the gentleman as a keepsake. He was so delighted that he suggested we buy a bottle of gin for the table. Unfortunately there was no cucumber available – unusual for a hotel with a catering operation of this size – so we refused the Hendrick’s and instead opted for Belvedere vodka. I must confess this was my idea – I discounted the Smirnoff because, well, it’s Smirnoff, and Grey Goose is more a marketing ploy than a decent product in my opinion, so Belvedere was really the only option ; ) I didn’t see the bill – although I did see his reaction as he signed it – but the staff were quick to insist all the mixers were on the house and brought over an eye-watering display of glasses, bottles and jugs of juices.
We left the bar around two out of respect for the staff and carried on the party in one of our spacious bedrooms. None of the guests complained – although a few joined in. They turned out to be broadcasters covering the golf and insisted we make an appearance the next day. What a request that turned out to be….
The next morning, our table was still beautifully decorated and laid out for breakfast. We were greeted like old friends and had our fill of fruit, fry up and fresh baking to soak up the hangover. Luckily our plan for the day involved nothing more than chilling out in the spa and so, clad in fluffy gowns and sporting pink eyemasks as hairbands, we trooped in to our very own relaxation room. Again we were allowed to decorate to our hearts’ content and the staff provided jugs of iced water and Champagne glasses for those of us brave enough to get back on it. When the therapists arrived to take us away for our appointments they were delighted – not horrified as we nervously expected - to see our balloons and booze – and wanted to know all about the upcoming wedding. To a woman, we were fair chuffed with our treatments – my facial and head massage chased away the dregs of my hangover beautifully – so we left them some of our snacks as a thank you. We had a transformation to complete…
I must pause a moment to mention the lovely guy who came to our door to replenish the minibar. He made not a comment that all the water and crisps had disappeared – but when he returned at 4pm and Cheetara answered the door, his face was an absolute picture. The theme of the hen weekend, you see, was ‘superheroes’. My roommate had chosen her favourite female from Thundercats and went all out with bronze swimsuit and leggings, gold bodypaint and leopard print hair extensions – and then answered the door. Ever the professional, the poor guy handed over the drinks and walked calmly down the corridor. He may well have warned his colleagues, because no one batted an eyelid when Supergirl, Batgirl, Robin, She-Ra (from He-Man), Lara Croft, Cheetara and the Fashion Police emerged from the lift into the foyer. Well, no one except the concierge, who insisted on a photo and promised to take care of all our transport down into St Andrews. We just had one thing to do first….
It was 4.30 and the final golfers were coming through at the Senior Open. To the bemusement of the waterproof-sporting crowd, eight superheros turned up amongst them, clapping politely as the Italian sank his putt. Our broadcasting friends from the previous night screamed up in the golf buggies, their mouths hanging open, to see for themselves and instruct the cameraman to point the lens in our direction. Apparently we made a brief appearance on Sky Sports. A charming golf club employee gave our hen – Batgirl – a lift back up to the hotel in a cart. We had missed the courtesy bus, but the concierge called a taxi for us and we headed into town to frighten the locals.
The next morning only two of our number were feeling the effects of the previous night’s excesses – although one was convinced the limbo dancing competition in the Lizard Lounge had put her back out. When another returned with an enormous omelette on her plate, two of us were quick to visit the chef, who cooked up two delicious concoctions and garnished the plates with a Dairy Milk and a Galaxy – an unexpected and quirky personal touch. As we loaded our bags into the cars the valet brought round for us, we were truly sad to leave – but the most unexpected thing was that we really had the impression they were sad to see us go.
Saturday, 25 July 2009
Havana
Tuesday, 31 March 2009
The Glasgow bam who don't give a damn
The day had been the usual sh*te
And tired workers on the bus
Were far from in the mood for fuss
But on he came as bold as brass
The alchy ned withoot a pass
"Ma maw's in hospital, she's dying!"
he slurred to skip the need for buying
"I dinna care now beat it love"
An auld dear aimed and gi'ed a shove
"Here it is" he found his ticket
Upstairs we began to brick it
He stumbled up, sat among us
Stinkin like he had a fungus
Quietly he sat and then
Stood up and cleared his throat 'ahem'
"Excuse me" went the plaintive cry
"I think ma mammy's gonnae die
Can youse help us oot a fix
I need tae get her some Matchsticks."
Silence while we raised our papers
Tryin tae avoid the caper
"D'ye mean Matchmakers?" someone said
I couldnae help but raise ma head.
"Aye - ye know - they chocolate hings"
A wee bit banter gies him wings
"Who'll start me at a poun?" he cries
Again we crouch and lower our eyes
"Come oan this is embarr'ssin me"
He gestures round to find his fee
"Och here's a pound" a brave man says
Delighted alchy ned shouts "YES"
"Here's another" and o'er the aisle
A young girl makes the wee ned smile
He's quiet then until 'Oh f*ck"
My gut reaction is to duck
But he's not going to have a pop
He's realised he's missed his stop
He lurches to the stairs but cannae
catch himself and yells 'ya f*nny'
Crash and thump he's on his arse
This day's descending into farce
"F*nny ye did that on purpose"
He yells continuing the circus
"'Scuse me passengers" he shouts
Downstairs starts to have its doubts
He tries to be polite and nice
"Did youse all see me fall there twice?"
Upstairs we all begin to laugh
He may be drunk but he's no daft
"You shut it ya wee bam" we hear
"Or whit?" -he says without a fear
"You know that I'm frae Castlemilk?"
But seems this guys is of his ilk
"I'll take no nonsense here alright?
I've had enough of all your sh*te."
But wee ned's banging on the door
He's missed his stop just like before
"I'd better no see you aboot"
He shouts and finally jumps oot
But keeps on runnin alongside
Shouting loud to save his pride
The punchline is no word of boast
He ran smack intae a lamppost.
Thursday, 16 October 2008
Arran
It had been a while since I'd been to Arran.
We'd been pretty stressed at work and decided it was time to get away for a couple of days (amazing how a weekend there feels like a week!)
We were just strolling over the brow of the hill at Kings Cross when we saw the beginnings of a rainbow over Holy Isle. We thought that if we waited it might just get bigger and brighter...fifteen mins later there it was in all its glory! I had to climb on his shoulders to get the right angle - and the dog was going mental by his feet - but it was worth it.
This to me sums up a perfect day in Arran.
Thursday, 7 February 2008
The beautiful north
"There's life north of Inverness?"
The author of this quote shall remain nameless - though I will tell you he's a subsciber to the 'nowt north of the Watford gap' school of thought - but he highlights a common belief.
In a way I shouldn't even be writing this, because a huge part of Ross-shire's charm is it's lack of crowds, especially in January. But I had to share because the wild beauty of the area is breath-taking.
On a recent business trip, I drove from Inverness to Lochcarron - approximately 62 miles. The kind of landscape that makes me feel a deep-seated love in my Scottish heart accompanied me all the way. I was in a bit of a hurry or I would have happily stopped every three minutes to take pictures of deserted, heather-covered hills, the mist hovering over a still loch or the rays of sunshine that pierced the clouds and made the trees glow green. I felt a stab of jealousy every time I spotted a cottage or farm nestled between the hills - what an idyllic place to spend your life.
Lochcarron itself is a lovely wee town lined up face to face with the loch. Its population is mostly made up of elderly people - until the tourist season - so the pace of life is leisurely. My business took me to the local convenience store, a lovely family- run place which has been rewarded by trade bodies and manufacturers for its quiet yet efficient service for the locals. It's admirable how broad a range they manage to stock given certain suppliers' reluctance to travel to their corner of the world, and customers can find rare treats as the seasons progress - Scottish berried, fresh eggs - all accompanied by the teasing scent of freshly baked bread...
TBC
Wednesday, 23 January 2008
Arran
Arran is overseas - technically - and that's a huge part of the charm.
After a tough working week, the relief of stepping onto the ferry is instant. You can almost see the stress dissipate in the wake. Even the duration is ideal; 55 minutes is exactly how long it takes to wind down, hit neutral, then gear up for the weekend.
Every time I visit the island it's a different experience. The weather doesn't hamper any activity and whether I'm with just my husband or my whole extended family and friends, there's always some new walk to explore, new tearoom to try or adventure sport to attempt.
A particular favourite is the Eden Lodge Hotel in Whiting Bay.
It's always busy and yet there's always room. The food is simple, home-cooked and often locally sourced. I once had smoked mackerel pate whose main ingredient had been swimming happily only a few hours previously. The house wines have the double benefit of being reasonably priced and easy on the palate and there's always some unusual bottle on the gantry which the owner's brought back from her travels (I should know, she's my sister-in-law!) Family prejudice aside, Eden Lodge is a very popular bar-restaurant whose five bedrooms are booked out weeks in advance. It also has the advantage of staying open throughout the quiet season, unlike many of the island's businesses, and appears in the 2007 Good Beer Guide.
From Whiting Bay it's a short drive over 'the bumps' (if taken at speed your stomach frequently disappears) to Kildonan. The beach there is always inviting but at midsummer it rivals the Canaries in my opinion. White sand and turqouise water attract visitors of all discriptions; the rockpools fascinate the children, the volcanic deposits form prehistoric climbing frames and there is plenty of space for dogs to chase frisbees and men to tend barbecues. Across the shore road a trail has been created to walk up to a waterfall; it's easy going and doesn't take much more than an hour.
There's a reason the island markets itself as 'Scotland in miniature' - if you're not canoeing over to the Holy Isle from Lamlash or cycling the hills of Lochranza, you could be playing any one of the three golf courses, eating freshly caught fish in a restaurant or visiting Brodick castle.
But my personal favourite out of everything the island has to offer is a barbecue at Kings Cross Point, surrounded by half-cut friends and family watching the sun set over the 'sleeping giant' and the boats in Lamlash bay.
Only then am I ready to get back on the ferry and return to reality.